


Knights, Plural

by Haospart



Series: Knighthood [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Djyad hates droids so that's showing up too, Djyad is an asshole, I'll add tags as they come up, Multi, Novelization, One Sided Rivalry, Rev is a good jedi and Djyad is Not so we're exploring that, Tension, darkside jedi, neurodivergent characters, one Mess, two heroes of tython
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26074633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haospart/pseuds/Haospart
Summary: Revé'alle, the 'perfect' Jedi, and Djyad, the problem child of the Jedi order, meet and get snatched up to be trained TOGETHER.It can really only go downhill from here.aka I accidentally gave my main Knight a wife who isn't Kira so now, to reconcile *her* concurrent existence with Kira and The Canon and also my accidentally contradictory backstory for Djyad, I guess I'm starting a novelization with double the Knights, for double the fun.
Relationships: Male Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Knighthood [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2186085
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7
Collections: Continuity:  Love and Everything





	Knights, Plural

**Author's Note:**

> Characters Featured in this Fic:  
> Jedi Knights  
> -Revé'alle (i haven't figured a last name for her yet lol)  
> -Djyad Mourra

The air was crisp and clear as the shuttle touched down on the landing pad. Tython, a soothing presence in the Force that leached into the body through the feet, grounding and solidifying Revé’alle in the present even though she was over a hundred meters above the soil itself. With two training sabers strapped to her back, she descended the exit ramp and let herself breathe in the atmosphere.

It was calming, the buzz hummed through her cybernetics and fed back into her own power, a gentle tide under her skin. Not that she needed any calming herself, she was well practiced at the art of serenity. Even in the most intense parts of her training, Rev was an undisturbed pool of calm in the middle of a cool forest at dawn.

Her commitment to the Light and her unrivaled mastery of her sabers amongst her peers had led to her transfer to Tython. She’d surpassed her teachers in combat and learned all they could teach her before they’d decided that their pupil required more intensive training than they could provide. The Jedi that greeted her on her way off the landing platform, Derrin Weller, mentioned as such, praising her combat prowess.

“-now we do have one or two padawans that might rival your natural talent for weaponry, but from what I’ve heard you’ve managed to make quite the name for yourself amongst your friends.”

“Talent has nothing to do with it, I assure you. The gifted who do not work and strive for improvement will forever be surpassed by the talentless who do,” Revé’alle replied, her voice a low drone, impassive and practiced. Whether she’d come to this conclusion herself or been taught it, it was a concept that she had recited many times, “I learned from those who understood the importance of work and balance. Learning from the knowledgeable and understanding provided the ideal situation to excel.”

He led her indoors, letting her talk as they walked. The structure was sleek and round, she noted. Not unsurprising, given the overarching aesthetic of Republic architecture, and the Jedi were _firmly_ Republic. The interior of the room was sparse, a few control panels and a computer, really. Understandable, this was little more than air traffic control, authorizing transports to this landing pad. It _would_ be sensibly furnished, it was serving its purpose.

She was brought out of her small analysis of the stylings and practicality of the building when he continued talking.

“Yes, well you’ve proved to be a quick learner, and with quite the reputation already. Everyone at the temple is looking forward to meeting you,” Derrin chuckled, a kind smile flitting gently over his face, “Your trials here will teach you more, give you a sense of what it is to be a Jedi Knight, and a sense of who you are beyond that. The Jedi Council will assign you a Master to oversee those trials.”

She inclined her head slightly, the faintest hint of a bow, and clasped her hands in front of her, “I look forward to it. Where do I start?”

“There’s a speeder on the other landing pad that you can take to-”

A small light lit up behind him on the control panel, and his personal holocommunicator beeped, insistent and urgent. Derrin’s smile dropped in an instant, and he quickly fumbled for it on his belt, “One sec, it’s an urgent signal.”

He popped it off his belt and held it in front of him, resting in the palm of his hand. A couple short presses to the side and a bith dressed in padawan’s garb and with a training saber slung in a sheath over his shoulder appeared, frantically mid-sentence, going on about Flesh Raiders with _blasters_ invading the training grounds.

Derrin brow furrowed, perturbed as the call cut off, the sound of blaster fire faint in the background. Perhaps faint enough that out of the two of them, only Revé’alle could hear it. She didn’t have a terribly good grasp of the sensitivity of the ears of others, cybernetically augmented as hers were.

“Flesh Raiders with blasters? That can’t be right. It has to be a mistake,” he went on, troubled.

Revé’alle crossed her arms in front of her chest and leveled an unimpressed look at the Jedi, “Mistake or not, there were blasters discharging and that padawan was under attack. He needs help.”

He made a soft sound in the back of his throat in lieu of a response, then turned to key a few things into the computer behind him. A couple more quiet taps and he spoke, distracted by the information lighting on the screen but urgent, “Flesh Raiders are native here, and hostile. Smart enough to use tools but violent and beyond reason. They’ve never come this close before.”

“What must I do?”

“I’m sending every able bodied Jedi down there, to the padawan training area, to push them back,” he continued his input of information, sending out a temple-wide alert that flitted through Revé’alle’s vision for a moment, before she dismissed the notification, “Especially you.”

“Especially me?” she raised a brow as high as it would go, felt the metal implants in her brow bone resist and pull, but it would perhaps express the question better than her voice would.

“Yes, especially you. You’ve had real combat training, many of the padawans down there haven’t. You will do much better against the Flesh Raiders than they will.”

“Of course, just tell me where to go. I will handle it.”

Derrin nodded, “There’s a speeder just outside, it will take you down to the training grounds. You’ll want to- oh, _hell_.”

Well that wasn’t a good sound, under any circumstances.

“Oh?”

Derrin shook his head, then turned around to face her with a grimace, “We finally have someone with combat training down there now, but he’s… somewhat _aggressive_. Which may be useful here but it won’t be pretty.”

Oh good.

“You’ll want to head down to lend a hand in pushing them back, and you’re to find out if the Flesh Raiders are in fact using blasters--find out where they’re getting them if you can,” his grimace turned into almost a pained look as he continued, “Find the padawan Djyad Mourra. Tall mirialan, white hair, sour expression. He’ll be the one attempting to bisect Flesh Raiders through willpower and force alone. Leaves quite a trail, you can’t miss him. He will point you in the right direction. Hopefully.”

“Hopefully?” the corners of her mouth dipped a little, skeptical.

“Hopefully. He doesn’t like being bothered, but he’ll be in the middle of all the fighting, and have a better idea of what’s going on down there than I do right now. If you can get him to help you, all the better.”

Right then, an obstinate and aggressive padawan. Revé’alle hummed an acknowledgement and bowed her head in thanks, “I will do my best.”

“Good luck, padawan,” he replied, a gentle send off and a genuine wish as she turned on her heels and headed out to join the fight. She seemed unflappable as she strode out, measured purpose in her steps and practically oozing patience and serenity.

Derrin heaved a long-suffering sigh. Djyad was going to _hate_ her.


End file.
